


Subject to Change

by KirkwallsChamp



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Art Student AU, College AU, F/M, Forbidden Fruit, Modern AU, Student/teacher relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:23:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirkwallsChamp/pseuds/KirkwallsChamp
Summary: Magic (kind of)exists in this college AU--
Sur'vhena Lavellan, a college junior, attends a peace conference held by the humans, only to get caught in the middle of things. Her dreams, a connection to the Fade, plague her with visions of an unknown man and a direwolf.





	1. introductions

**Sur'vhena Lavellan found it hard to sleep at night.**

 

She supposed it wasn't the sleep that came with difficulty-- In reality, it was the dreams that came with it.

 

Dreams were always difficult, even as a child in Wycome-- in the modern world, the veil was thicker than it had ever been, but the few who were blessed with magic were just well enough connected to be bothered by spirits from the other side, particularly in dreams. Sur'vhena had been chosen as second to her clan's keeper, but with all the responsibility it entailed, she still knew she'd wanted to pursue some sort of study beyond her clan's reach. When the opportunity came to go to Ferelden's peace conference, just a few weeks before her schooling's fall semester would start, she gained leave from her Keeper, and permission to transfer to the college where the peace talks were held.

The particularly difficult dreams came from the one major hitch in everyone's plans--  when she arrived at the well reknown human peace conference, at the request of Clan Lavellan, she had apparently intercepted a bomb threat. Not late enough to stop it, mind you-- just late enough for it to go off, wrecking some of the mobility of her left hand and leaving her close enough to the scene of the crime to be mistaken for its perpetrator for a solid week. 

She ironically counted herself lucky that, during that week, she'd been unconscious. Unfortunately for her, her memory was a blank as to how she'd gotten stuck in the blast in the first place. It was during that unconsciousness, however, that her dreaming had started. 

A big, tawny direwolf tracked her through a wooded area from her memories. She would try to walk lightly, the pads of her feet gently scuffing the twigs and dirt, but her breathing was too ragged to disguise. Every time she lost sight of the direwolf, she'd breath a little easier, but it would inevitably reappear, as she emptied traps like she did when she was young. The pattern would always continue, until she eventually came upon a silvery pool shaded by a golden tree. Across the water she could see a shadowed figure sitting at the base of the tree, and for a moment their eyes would meet.

Then, she'd awake in her hospital bed, breathing hard and soaked in a cold sweat. The wolf, who she assumed was Fen'Harel, was a known ill omen of elvhen mythology. The man, however, she wasn't so sure of. Since she didn't recognize the figure,  she'd decided to reach out to her clan in Wycome for some counselling on the matter, but hadn't yet heard any reply.

  
  


The bomb threat was a few weeks ago. It seemed like a miracle that she'd survived the blast, but she'd been monitored carefully in the meantime, kept in a cramped hospital room that was starting to run her patience low. It seemed that in the wake the blast had caused, many of the other transfer and exchange students had desired to go home, but as Sur'vhena's Fall semester of her junior year had just started, she was eager to remain. After petitioning the higher-ups at the school, she received a small stipend for Dalish students who desired to stay on campus, and steeled herself for the hard road ahead.

She counted herself lucky that the hand she'd wrecked in the accident wasn't her dominant one. Sur'vhena had just decided to swap to an art degree, and was eager to get to work on classes at last beyond prerequisites when it happened, and she was entirely terrified that she would have had to re-learn all together. Now she was down to physical therapy twice a week, and was feeling slightly more positive about the situation overall. Then she met her roommate.   
  


"Oi, you're Lavellan? Frig, you're all elfy!"

The blonde elf staring back at her furrowed her brows as she spoke, the freckles dusting her nose crinkling slightly as her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"I... What?" Sur'vhena quirked an eyebrow, "I'm Sur'vhena Lavellan. Are you... Watsi--"

"Watsitoyer, comma S," Sera finished for her, grinning widely, "But to my friends, I'm Sera. Or Jenny. Take your pick."

Sur'vhena nodded along, "Jenny?" to which Sera laughed loudly, pulling up the sleeve on her over-sized red jumper and brandishing a scantily clad pinup girl tattoo.

"Jenny! As in, Red Jenny!"

"Ah. I see," Sur'vhena couldn't help but chuckle.

"Wot? I can make her dance, if you want to see?" Sera bubbled, happy that Sur'vhena didn't seem outright put off by her actions. They moved beyond the doorway, chatting off and on as the Dalish girl moved the rest of her things into the sparsely furnished dorm room.

Sera's chatter faded into silence, watching from atop her lofted bed as Sur'vhena began to put away the last of her things.

"It was quiet without you here, yeah? The bighats, they came and told me that you were in the building during that thing, and I--"

"I'm sorry," Sur'vhena confessed, "I hope you didn't worry too much."

"Don't matter," Sera answered, shaking the thought away visibly, "You're here now. Someone'll get the big prick back, and besides-- you look fine!"

"It took a while, but I think I'm coming back around. I've got physical therapy twice a week, but I'm already gaining back some of the movement I lost," the Dalish girl answered, brandishing her left hand in Sera's direction. True to her word, her fingers flexed slightly, though she now sported a thick scar along the inside of her palm. Sera cringed slightly at the sight-- though it was clear she didn't seem to mean any harm by the honest reaction. Even so, Sur'vhena couldn't help but feel her stomach drop. A knock at the door sent both of them wheeling around, however, forgetting the awkwardness of the moment.

Sera flung herself off the bed and toward the door, throwing it open to find a very surprised and obviously nervous freshman girl in front of them.

The girl cleared her throat, "Um... Jenny?"

Sera grinned, "Hey you, what's wrong?"

"I'm... I'm sorry, I locked myself out of my room, and--"

"On it!" Sera yelled, grabbing for a gigantic key ring and the girl's hand, and taking off before she could finish her sentence. Sur'vhena was left in baffled silence, waiting for the other elf to return.

It was only a matter of minutes, which she spent absently searching her phone for an email, a message, anything from her clan. Still nothing. It wasn't like them, to prolong communication for so long. 

Soon after, Sera burst back into the room, "Sorry-- she's good, now."

"What was that about?"

"Oh! I'm an RA," she laughed, "I figured, I get all the keys, all the dorm hours, everything--  _ great _ for pranks!"

"Really? I'm surprised. Being an RA seems like a big responsibility."

Sera rolled her eyes, "It's not about that... That's part of it, yeah, but mostly, it's helping people. And that's what Red Jenny's about, right? Helping the little ones."

"That makes some sense then, I suppose."

"Yesssss," Sera gave a wide toothed grin, glancing at the clock, "Ooh, it got late quick. You hungry?"

Sur'vhena's stomach answered for her, and with that, Sera set off on giving her a full tour of the campus.

 

* * *

  
  


Sera was a great help in getting Sur'vhena acquainted with campus-- it was through her that she found all of the local hangouts, including a coffee shop just off campus, and a band of friends haphazardly sheltering one another in the stormy climate of the school. Sur'vhena's last night at the hospital had made her miss the first days of her classes, but as Sera not-so gently reminded her, those were mostly full of syllabi and professors grandstanding. And thus, she fell into her place, with the help of Red Jenny. Her first few nights with Sera passed without incident, save for one night, when she woke from the same dream as before. 

Sera loomed over nervously, putting a gentle hand on Sur'vhena's shoulder.

"You alright? Things got all shouty over here," she asked quietly. An oversized tank top hung limply off one of her shoulders, and her bangs stood straight up off her forehead.

Sur'vhena attempted to shake the sleep from her eyes, an ache ghosting through the scar on her hand. That was new.   

"I think I'm okay... What was I yelling?"

"Dunno... Something elfy," Sera shrugged, yawning. She stood there for a moment longer, before stepping back and climbing onto her bed. She cast a wary eye over Sur'vhena one last time as she lay down.

"You sure you're alright?"

"I think so," Sur'vhena nodded, "Thanks."

She turned over, attempting to forget the dream, and checked her phone for the time to see if she could squeeze in any more sleep.

[6:30] 

Her first class wasn't until eight-- But it felt as though the time for sleep had passed. Thus, she turned to what she felt would help her conquer the day best.

She pulled back what she could of her undercut, dark bangs falling out of the binding almost immediately. She elected to ignore it, instead pulling on a loose heather gray tank top, and some black running shorts. Slipping on a brace for her left hand, she then tied some sneakers on good and tight and after a few minutes of hard stretching, she put on her headphones and left.

The crisp fall air greeted her, the morning sky stained pink with the rising sun. She breathed deeply, taking in the sights as she ran, one, two then three laps around the campus. Just enough to get her blood working, she told herself. Enough to quiet the spirits pestering her dreams. Music helped, as the beat pounded with her heart rate, her endorphins coming alive as she awoke.

Her third lap left her just near the Andrastian chantry building off campus, near a small coffee shop that Sera had shown her in days past. In cooling down, Lavellan had a taste for something more than water. Perhaps something sweet.

She pulled open the door, and was greeted with a surprising bustle of people, going throughout their morning rituals it seemed.

Ahead of her in line, a ruddy haired dwarf in a leather jacket was making idle conversation with an elven man in a mossy green turtleneck, their backs facing her. Trying not to eavesdrop, she instead turned her attention to the display case in front of them, her eyes catching a particularly delightful looking red velvet cupcake, smeared with a delicate layer of white buttercream icing. Her mouth watered at the sight.

As the people ahead of them moved away, her delicate ears pricked up.

"What, Chuckles-- No earl grey today?"

the disgust in the answer was evident, "No,  _ thank you _ Master Tethras. I'm hoping for something a bit sweeter, today."

For a moment, her eyes scrunched shut, thinking,  _ not the cupcake, please not the cupcake-- _

"What about that one?" The dwarf interjected, Sur'vhena's eyes following his outstretched hand, "It looks pretty good, for sweet stuff."

A disappointed little moan escaped her before she could stop herself, both of the men behind her wheeling around in surprise-- and that was when she saw it.

Those eyes. The eyes from her dream, piercing, light, almost lilac in color. Though most of his face had been obscured by shadow in the dream, in the waking world she could see it all-- his dark brows furrowing slightly, as the small scar on his chin lifted with the rest of his face in surprise. They caught each other’s gaze and held it for a moment, her breath catching in her throat.

"I'm sorry," He seemed caught off guard, but not quite flustered, "Did my friend suggest something you wanted, Lethallan?"

The elvhen curled from his tongue with a grace that took her by surprise.

"I-- No! well, I..." She struggled, unsure of how to continue.

The one the elf had called  _ Master Tethras _ smiled, his kind eyes crinkling as he did so, "Well, I know what I want, so when you're ready, Chuckles, it's on me. Just give your order to the barista, and tell them it's on my tab. I'll see you outside."

He stepped out the door, pausing just long enough to light a cigarette before stepping out of sight. Thus, she was left alone with the elven man.

By now, his facial expression had softened to something akin to modest kindness. He prompted her again, "Are you alright? I hope I didn't offend,"

"No, no," Sur'vhena shook her head, making an awkward moment of eye contact with the barista still waiting on the other elf's order, "Please, go ahead, I insist..."

"Ah, yes," he gathered her meaning, looking over the glass case for another brief moment, "I suppose I'll take the cupcake, the brownie, and two cups of coffee."

The order was succinct, and as he finished he seemed to draw himself up-- an air of confidence exuding as he paid for his order. Sur'vhena secretly cursed her politeness, until the man looked over his shoulder at her, "I hope I haven't been too presumptuous, ordering for both of us,"

"What?"

"I could never deny someone something they so clearly wanted," he chuckled, handing her one of the to-go mugs, and a little brown paper sack. 

"M-mas serannas, Lethallin, you're too kind!"

"Nonsense," he smiled, "But... I'd hoped to put a smile on your face, and you still look troubled."

Sur'vhena wondered how to broach the subject without seeming completely over the line. At last, she shook her head and went for it, confessing, "I think... I think I've seen you in my dreams."

This time a little laugh escaped him, "Excuse me?"

"I-- In the fade," she struggled, "I get dreams, from spirits, sometimes, and... Creators, I must sound so--"

Another laugh, "A dream, you say? You've certainly got my attention, Lethallan." 

It wasn't a cruel sound, simply one of surprised mirth.

He led her to a small table, motioning for her to sit down with him, "May I ask your name?"

"Sur'vhena-- Sur'vhena Lavellan," she answered, perhaps a tad too eagerly for what was appropriate. He seemed undeterred by it, nonetheless, "And your's?"

The dwarf threw open the door suddenly, interrupting the exchange, "Chuckles-- meeting's in 10, let’s go!"

The elven man looked offput by the din, collecting his things and giving her an apologetic look, "Another time, perhaps. Will you be around, again? Perhaps at the same time tomorrow?"

"I can try," Sur'vhena answered, surprisingly quietly. He smiled.

"Tomorrow, then."

* * *

  
  
  


Sur'vhena licked the remnants of buttercream frosting off her fingers as she left the coffee shop. The sun had finally risen, promising sunshine, though Haven's cold air cut through the warmth quite deftly. She shivered, no longer protected by the heat her run had provided. She walked briskly back to the dorm, nursing a now lukewarm coffee, and wondering how to interpret the meeting that just happened.

He'd been intrigued-- but it seemed he hadn't remembered her. That is, he didn't seem to know her face. But now, he had her name and she had his attention. Perhaps tomorrow he'd have more time to talk?

She could feel the veil coiling around him during their encounter, as she knew he must have for her-- her fumbling explanation of her dreams was probably unnecessary, in hindsight. She groaned to herself, blush coloring her cheeks as she wrenched open the dorm door. Sera was still in bed when Sur'vehan entered the room, quietly. She stirred, mumbling something unintelligible as Sur'vhena grabbed her toiletries and slipped into the bathroom, unnoticed. 

One thing Sur'vhena hadn't had time to get used to yet was the sheer volume of people sharing the bathing space available-- their room was connected to another through a communal bathroom. The other room had three girls, instead of two-- Sur'vhena guessed that was the perk of living with an RA. Still, she had yet to meet all of the others-- She'd met Cassandra the day of the bomb threat, though she truthfully didn't remember much. Now, when she ran into her now in passing, it was undeniably awkward.

The second roommate, Josephine, however, was extremely amicable about the situation, promising that they'd all go out for dinner some night and bury the hatchet, hopefully ending any further awkwardness going forward. Supposedly one other roommate, a girl named Lace Harding, lived in their room as well... Sur'vhena only knew this because of the small, cute and well organized toiletries case that sat on the shelf in the bathroom with her name on it. Josephine had explained that Lace was simply a very active person, and as such wasn't home very much. Still, the impending awkward run in-- as most bathroom run-ins happened to be-- had Sur'vhena on her toes.

Lucky for her, this morning she was alone, and she slid the locks to both sides closed with a quick click. She undressed in equal earnest, dropping her clothes and kicking them away from the drain near the center of the tiled bathroom floor. Turning on the water, she flicked the knob over to as hot as it could go, watching steam fill the room as her mind continued to wander. When it seemed warm enough, she stepped in and stuck her head under the stream, feeling sweat and tension rinse away in equal measure. One good thing about the man-made constructs around her-- they had consistent hot water, and plenty of it.

Halfway through conditioning her hair, Sur'vhena heard a heavy knock on the bathroom door, giving her heart a little jump.

"Y-yes?" She called over the roar of the water.

Sera's voice carried beyond the door, "Thought I'd warn you-- Class starts in 20!"

Sur'vhena groaned-- she must have lost track of time between her morning trek and the warmth of the shower,  "Be right out!"

She hurriedly rinsed her hair, giving it a quick comb through with her fingers, and a haphazard scrubbing of her face before she turned the water off, and toweled off with vigor. Wrapping the cloth around herself, she quickly gathered her dirty clothes and threw open the bathroom door, catching Sera's eyes with an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry-- Did you need to jump in before class, too?"

Sera snorted, "Pfft No, what-- am I meeting the queen? Silly," though she did indeed sneak past Sur'vhena and closed the bathroom door behind her. Sur'vhena took the opportunity to change into fresh clothes, pulling a black tank top over her wet head. She walked over to the closet, picking out and shimmying into a pair of dark  washed jeans, and throwing a sagging cream colored sweater over her shoulders. Last, but not least, she wrapped her neck in a breezy moss green scarf, giving herself a final once over as Sera exited the bathroom, still in full pajamas.

"You smell nice," Sera sniffed, before backpedaling, "Pretty elfy, but nice.... Not that I'm smelling you, or anything--"

Sur'vhena nodded, giving Sera a little smile. She knew her roommate meant well, and had learned in their early days together not to question the vendetta against all things elfy. They'd agreed to disagree, but only after Sur'vhena convinced Sera to let her keep living there. It was still a somewhat touchy subject, but Sur'vhena had started to understand where it came from-- Sera was raised by a human woman, around humans, and the distaste for elvhen culture ran deep. It was the one thing that really snagged in their friendship, so she let it lie dormant for the time being. Sera was her first friend here, and she was desperate to keep on good terms.  

"Thanks," She offered instead, "I think it's my soaps-- you're welcome to use them, at some point, if you want to."

Sera crinkled her nose, "Ha. What are you trying to say?"  
  
Sur'vhena threw her book bag over one shoulder as she ran out the door, calling, "Absolutely nothing!"  


	2. Magic, and it's place in Art and History

It seemed that the professor was late.

Sur'vhena had managed to arrive a few moments early, selecting a seat in the middle of the auditorium, hoping to blend in with the rest of her classmates as best she could. Being a dalish elf with a dark vallaslin usually prevented this from being the case, but she hoped nonetheless.

A young man down in front, presumably the teacher's aid, called for everyone's attention and attempted to maintain order as he stepped up and down the aisle, passing out a thick stack of photocopied powerpoint slides. He dressed in rich royal purple, with black dress pants and sharp black shoes, tastefully accentuated with small gold accessories. His mustache twitched in annoyance when no one really seemed to listen, but continued his duty nonetheless.

When the slides reached her, Sur'vhena began paging through; the class she was attending was originally titled _Magic, and it's place in Art and History_ , and counted as a mid-range art history credit. Admittedly, she was more than a little peeved that she'd missed the day they went over the syllabus, if nothing else but because she could have seen some sort of outline on what time periods, artists and eras they might be covering.

Thumbing through the packet, she was surprised to see that everything had been copied in full color-- the miniaturized paintings both familiar and not catching her eye-- each page with space for note taking meticulously laid out. It seemed her instructor cared deeply about their subject matter, with the pains they were taking to provide for their students.

The buzz of the room quieted as the projector flipped on and lights off, gentle footsteps clicking down the stairs toward the front of the room.

Her heart gave a loud thump as she surveyed the man making his way to the front---

A moss green turtleneck, covered now by a tan blazer with brown suede patches on the elbows, accompanied by a clean shaven head and sharp pointed ears. What had the dwarf called him? _Chuckles_? It seemed like an odd nickname for him, based on first impressions. Recalling the incident gave her stomach a little lurch-- it had been embarrassing for her, to say the least-- perhaps he wouldn't recognize her?

"I'll ask you all to please hold your questions until the end of the slideshow," He began, turning to face the crowd of students before him. Sur'vhena attempted to shrink back in her seat and disappear, but to no avail. Eye contact was made between them, and the very slight quirk of an eyebrow gave her the indication that he'd seen her, too.

He managed to recover quickly however, and continued without skipping a beat, "We've much to cover in today's lecture, and I do want to make sure we have time for clarification at the end."  
  
Turning back, he promptly began the lesson, outlining some artwork thought to have been made by the Avvar in early history. The lecture in itself wasn't particularly riveting, and after a time, Sur'vhena found herself attempting to study her professor instead.

a pair of reading glasses were slung around his neck with a small cord, catching the light and glinting as he turned around to enunciate from time to time. Though he let off a calm and composed presence, he was surprisingly emotive-- his brows furrowed and lips quirked as he spoke. Sur'vhena found his voice alluring, and, dare she admit it? She felt a slight attraction to him-- it made the embarrassing scene from before that much more torturous.

"Dorian, if you'd get the lights," He called out as she zoned back in. The mustachioed young man from before stood up, stretching slightly as he stepped to the door, doing as he was bid. As the room quickly illuminated, she found herself blinking hard to readjust, opening her eyes to see him staring hard at her for another moment. He quickly turned back to the chalkboard, however, and began writing out the evening's homework.

"If there are no questions, then let us end here. I need you all to read chapters one and two, and take notes-- there will be a practice questionnaire at the end of each chapter-- I suggest you review them carefully," He said, a smirk summoned in his voice, "You're dismissed."

The classroom erupted in a din once more, students eager to get out of their seats and tromp towards the door. Sur'vhena walked slowly down the aisle, wondering whether or not the correct choice was to approach him at all-- she then remembered, at the very least, she needed her copy of the syllabus. Her heart gave an uneasy thump.

_Here goes nothing._

His chin lifted in greeting as she made her way over, the room now empty save for her, Dorian, and himself. He and Dorian chatted quietly for a moment, as she hung back and waited in what she hoped was a polite way, and not just the lurking she felt it might have looked like.

"--And you're leading the study session?" the Professor asked, prompting a nod from Dorian, "Good. When will you be holding office hours?"

Dorian shrugged, "I suppose, whenever I get around to it?"

"Hmm," the noise was one of slight disapproval.

"I have to check my schedule," Dorian clarified, "I'll email you once I have the time."

The Professor nodded, "Good. I hope to hear from you soon," His eyes then fell on her, "Will you excuse me for a moment? I think a another student may have a question."

Dorian shrugged, turning to see Sur'vhena awkwardly standing there, her bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder. He gave her a little smile, and strode past, leaving them alone at last.

"Do you have a moment, or are you pressed for time?"

The question surprised her. She pulled her phone from her back pocket, glancing at the time-- nearly eleven-- before she responded.

"No, I have a moment-- my next class isn't until one,"

She hated the little shake in her voice. She felt more timid than normal; the fade swimming in the room around her felt almost oppressive. Her hand gave a small, sharp pinch, making her wish she'd put her brace back on.

"Come with me," He nodded, turning his back to her and exiting the auditorium. She followed in silence, their footsteps quieted by cheap carpet worn thin in the hallways they stepped through, turning a corner before coming up to a row of offices. He strode just slightly ahead, digging a keyring from his pocket, and stopping at the furthermost room. He unlocked it quickly, turning to let her in before following himself and locking it afterward.

The room was large, but made slightly cramped by the strewn papers, books, and pieces of art stacked haphazardly around the room. A wide, beaten up couch was pushed back against one wall, and a desk sat in one of the other corners, nearly covered by more of the same. Across from the couch stood a partially worked on painting, covering from floor to ceiling, only the left hand corner painted, with sketches scrawled across the rest. Dirty windows cast a muted white glow over the room as he flicked the dim lights on and turned to face her.

"First, I feel I must apologize."

Sur'vhena was surprised by the statement, but gave no reply, allowing him to continue his thought, "Had I known you were a student, I would have..."

Now she felt the need to clarify, "I'm sorry?"

"This morning's interaction-- I thought it might have been inappropriate, for a student and teacher, to..."

His hand wheeled as he spoke, hoping she'd fill in the blanks. It took her a moment, but at last the thought dawned on her-- _had he thought she was hitting on him?_

Heat creeped into her cheeks.

"What? No-- No, I--" She backpedaled, "This morning-- The dream line, that--"

He chuckled, the sound a warm rumble that made her stomach drop slightly, "Your silver tongue was not just for my benefit, then."

Turning, he glanced around his desk, before finding a particular stack of papers, which he leafed through mindfully.

"Be careful who you try to charm, though, Lethallan... Not everyone in Haven can be so wooed with a tender smile and endearing manner."

The line was spoken coolly, but made her flush nonetheless.

She shook her head, "Don't I know it," raising her left palm as he turned around. He caught sight of the scar and his demeanor changed-- the magic in the room flared ever so slightly, her fingers wincing an echo, as he came close, passing the stack of papers to her other hand.

"Remarkable," He said, softly, "May I?"

Breath hitching in her throat, she nodded, allowing him to examine the scar closely. His fingers were long, slender, and cool against her own warming skin. He caught her eye after a moment.

"So your talk of seeing me in your dreams wasn't just that," He murmured, almost as an afterthought.

"Did you really think I'd stoop to that?"

The words shot from her before she could stop them. He raised an eyebrow in response, a smirk forming on his lips.

"I'm sorry-- Hahren," She attempted to correct herself, feeling him stiffen slightly. Dropping her hand, he gave her a small almost sad smile.

"Do not call me that, Lethallan," He said, carefully, stepping back just slightly, "I prefer to be a professor in name alone."

Taking a deep breath, she looked him up and down in the pale light.

"What should I call you, then? You never gave me your name."

He seemed surprised, his cool composure dropping ever so slightly, "Didn't I?"

She shook her head.

"In that case," He cleared his throat, glancing out the grimy window beyond, "You may call me Solas."

_Solas. the name meant pride._

Whether a mother's kind wish, or cruel joke, she couldn't be sure. Nonetheless it seemed to suit him well enough. Sur'vhena nodded.

"Professor Solas."

" _Just_ Solas," He corrected her once more, "Your dalish heritage asks for much respect from teacher to pupil-- and, as I said before, while I appreciate the sentiment behind the title, it has a habit of making people take my as infallible-- when, in art and history, there's proof that just the opposite could easily be true."

He cleared his throat again.

"In any case, what I've given you is the syllabus, which I _assume_ was the intent of your staying behind?"

"Ah, yes-- Thank you," Sur'vhena gave the papers a quick glance-- noting that it included office hours and contact info, as well as a timeline of his lesson plan. She pulled her bag off her shoulder and deposited it inside.

"Well, miss... Lavellan, was it?" He smiled courteously.

She nodded, her throat going oddly dry.

"I hope you'll enjoy our time together," He said, his voice soft and gentle, "And please, don't be a stranger-- I'm always available to answer questions."

With that, he turned and stepped toward the door, unlocking it, and waited for her to follow him before they exited together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a shorter chapter, it made sense to me to crop this one right here. stay tuned for more!


	3. Naming of the Herald

  
"What are you wearing?"

Sera lay on her stomach in bed, her feet kicking invisible circles in the air as she tapped angrily on the laptop in front of her-- a pair of glasses with no lenses perched haphazardly on the bridge of her nose. She grunted in acknowledgement to Sur'vhena but gave no immediate answer.

Sur'vhena set her bag down at the foot of her bed, sighing and flopping into her soft blankets. She contemplated sleep for a moment, until Sera slammed the laptop shut with a frustrated groan, "Urgh! Too hard, time to quit! Stupid problem, stupid answer, stupid everything!"  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Sur'vhena asked halfheartedly, already knowing the answer.

"No," Sera's temper flared, "I told you already-- it's techie stuff, not arty stuff. You wouldn't get it."

"Is it for school, then?" Sur'vhena couldn't help but question.

Sera chuckled at that, "No. The Computer Science program here's a laugh and a half-- I'm just taking it so i have a piece of paper to back me up. This one's for the Jenny's.... So. Break time while I let my mind stew-- come with me for lunch?"

Sur'vhena's afternoon classes were already over, and the day with them-- glancing at her clock she noted the time.

[6:30]

"Sera, did you not eat today?"

Sheepishly, the blonde elf glanced back at her roommate before answering, "Cookies?" eliciting a groan from her roommate.

"Where are we having dinner, then?" Sur'vhena prompted, as she located her brace and bent down to scoop it up off the floor.

Her mind went immediately to the class she hadn't worn it to-- It had been a few days since her interaction with Prof-- _Solas_ , she corrected herself. She'd passed him in the halls randomly a few times since then, between her other classes and reaching out to her other instructors for their syllabi. The way he'd gently examined her hand, not mortified, but instead almost curious about it. He'd said something as an afterthought-- that _her talk of seeing him in her dreams wasn't just that_ \-- but in her shooting her mouth off, she'd missed her chance for clarification. It was something that rolled through her brain as she attempted to fall asleep the past few nights-- what did it mean? What did _he_ mean?

She hadn't had the dream again since then-- what worried her was that she now almost _missed_ it.

She wanted a chance to interact with him more, whether she wanted to admit this to herself, or not.

Sera's voice brought her back from her jumbled thoughts, "--the cafe, under the student center? They've got great chicken."

"Sure," she answered quickly, getting back up and ushering Sera to do the same. The glasses nearly slid off her face, as Sur'vhena pushed them up for her with her pointer finger, laughing, "No, wait, really, what are those?"

Sera grinned, adjusting her maroon jumper so it no longer hung off one shoulder, "They're my <thinking> glasses," she scoffed, "For when I need to be smarter. I put them on, and BAM! Smarter!"  
  
A sudden knock on the door set Sera's conversation aside. She got to her feet, rubbing a sleeve under her nose subconsciously as she opened the door to reveal their next door neighbor, Josephine, who flashed her a smile.

"What's on, now?" Sera asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Sur'vhena glanced over Sera's shoulder, curiously.

"Sera, I'm actually here to see Sur'vhena," Josephine nodded, looking past one elf to the other. Sera seemed to pout just slightly, as she turned her body and allowed Josephine to enter the room.

"Whatever, Montilyet-- Make it quick, we were just about to go to dinner..."

"Actually, that's just it-- Sur'vhena's been asked to come with me to see the Dean," Josephine said, "As soon as possible."

Sera whirled around, "Vee, what'd you do?"

Sur'vhena looked mortified-- Had Solas told the Dean that she'd hit on him? If so, that was a quick turnaround. Could she really get in trouble? It hadn't been her intention...

_Though, it wasn't necessarily without motive..._

She shooed the thought away, pushing the butterflies to the pit of her stomach. She collected her nerves before asking, "Josephine, did the Dean say what this was in regards to?"

Josephine looked pensive, "I'm sorry, I don't really know..."

Sur'vhena took a deep breath, sighing, "Alright, I'll go with you now. Sera, I'll send you a message when I'm done there-- we're still on for dinner, okay? My treat."

"Won't need to say that twice," Sera laughed, stepping back and throwing herself onto her bed, "But don't hurry-- I've got some snacks to tide me over."

Throwing her purse over one shoulder, Sur'vhena followed Josephine, wondering just what she'd gotten herself into now.

* * *

 

The Dean's office was surprisingly spacious, with large windows overlooking the campus' wide open common ground. She seemed cheery enough as Sur'vhena and Josephine joined the meeting already in progress. Her red hair bobbed in greeting, seemingly unsurprised, and what's more, quite happy for the interruption.

"--Here she is now," She said, smiling warmly.

"Leliana," One of the other women in the room interjected, "If you're sure this is the best action..."

Her blue eyes flashed in Sur'vhena's direction, the icy stare more than enough to stop her in her tracks.

Still in the doorway, she eyed the gathering with some unease-- there were a few faces she recognized, and a few she did not; Josephine's roommate, Cassandra, stood in the back corner of the room, where Josephine quickly joined her. To Sur'vhena's right, she recognized the dwarf, who Solas had referred to as _Master Tethras_ , whose lips pursed into the smallest smirk as he recognized her. Beside him stood the woman who seemed to disapprove of her, draped in a cold white outfit that made her rich, deep skin nearly glow. Behind her, a blonde boy leaned against the wall and looked her up and down, while he spoke in a low voice to the teacher's aid Solas had called Dorian. Her heart skipped a beat for a moment as she scanned the room, but simmered down when she realized Solas wasn't present.

"What's going on here?" Sur'vhena asked, her mouth dry.

"Miss Lavellan," The Dean smiled, motioning to an empty chair, "Please, sit down."

Reluctantly, she left the safety of the door frame, stepping awkwardly around the group to reach the seat at last. Her slender fingers locked around the arms of the chair as the Dean gave her another look over.

"Please, relax... You're not in trouble."

"I'm not?" Sur'vhena couldn't help but ask.

"No-- In fact, we asked Josie to come get you so that we could talk about some recent developments on campus."

"You mean, it's been approved after all?" Josephine interrupted, excitement rising in her voice. The others all cast eyes on her and she quieted, her mouth snapping shut. The dwarf grinned to himself.

After a moment, the Dean continued, "Yes... What we were beginning to say, is that you have actually been selected, by a council of both your fellow students and instructors, to receive the Herald of Andraste scholarship."

Sur'vhena processed the information slowly, "I'm sorry... the <what>?"

Leliana's brow furrowed slightly as she gently began her explanation, "Sur'vhena-- May I call you Sur'vhena?"

Mystified, she nodded, and Leliana continued.

"Haven College is a school steeped in the tradition of the Andrastian Chantry. We firmly believe in Andraste as the Maker's chosen one-- Our previous Dean, Justinia, believed the same... That isn't to say that we disapprove of those with other beliefs-- on the contrary, we welcome those others with open arms."

"No, I understand that," Sur'vhena interjected quietly, "You said I've been chosen to recieve the-- what did you call it? Herald of Andraste scholarship? What does _that_ mean?"

Leliana smiled, though it didn't reach past her eyes, "As I was saying... In order to preserve Justinia's vision of what Haven College aught to be, we have created a scholarship in her honor. You survived the bomb threat that day, and thus, are a chance to show the world that Haven <can> be a place of peace. This honor is more than just a scholarship-- It puts a name, and a face, to the reclamation of this school. It tells our attacker that we are stronger than them, and that we will recover."

"What would me accepting this scholarship entail?"

Everyone began murmuring agreement at once, and Leliana's smile finally reached her eyes.

"We would ask that you put together a couple art pieces, on the subject of Andraste, to showcase for a dinner held in your, and the college's honor. We also hoped you would attend a press conference, to drum up some lip service."

Sur'vhena listened carefully, though her stomach dropped suddenly. _They wanted her in the public eye after all._  She had desperately hoped it wouldn't come to that-- though she knew it might. She gulped back her nerves.

"Am I allowed to turn this down?"

The group fell dead silent, looking at her in confusion.

"Is there a reason you might want to?" Leliana asked pragmatically.

Sur'vhena shifted in her seat uncomfortably, "You're asking me to create art based on a religion I don't belong to... And, asking me to become the face of a catastrophe that almost killed me."

The Dean looked her in the eyes as she answered, "Sur'vhena, you're _already_ the face of the event _because_ you survived. We've had many requests for interviews that we've denied, for your safety and recovery. We can only hold them back for so long, however. We would prefer if you spoke on _your_ terms, when you were ready to do so."

"And what about these art pieces?" Sur'vhena lifted an eyebrow, "It seems like a bad idea, when I believe in the Elvhen pantheon..."

"We're not asking you to change your religious views," Cassandra piped up this time, shifting as she spoke, "Just asking you to do some art with a variation on that theme. Take it however you will. Think of it like any other school assignment."

"But..."

"You will have a full host of staff and students at your disposal," Leliana offered casually, "Many have a great amount of knowledge about the history of the Andrastian Chantry, as well as the chant of light, and modern mythology surrounding Andraste, so you will have a wealth of information to draw from for inspiration. I also feel it worth mentioning-- This vast scholarship is everything Justinia left to the school-- accepting it would take care of the full amount of your tuition, as well as any art supplies needed for this event. We want this to be worth your time and effort."

Sur'vhena wanted to scream. To turn this down would be ludicrous, but in the same breath... Could she really sell out her art to pay for her college tuition?

Her mind flashed to the measly savings her clan had scraped together for her first semester-- that was what they could currently afford, and she _had_ been expected to get a part time job while she was here to earn money while she applied for loans for the rest... She had been dragging her feet on that since the accident, anyway; _couldn't she just look at this as her job and fulfillment of her obligation to her clan?_

She took a deep breath.

"All right," She sighed at last, "I'll do it."

* * *

 

"So what, now you're like, their pet?" Sera asked, her concern seeping through a mouthful of fries.

"What? No, Sera, that's not what I'm saying at all!"

"Think about it, yeah? They're offering you loads of money, but they want to put your face on everything... feels creepy, Vee, and wrong."

"I know... I know! I just, I felt like I needed to accept this, since it takes the burden off my cla--"

Sera cut Sur'vhena off short with an annoyed noise, "I get it, already-- whinging won't change your opinion now."

"Thank you..." Sur'vhena quieted, taking a bite of her chicken sandwich, "But there's one more thing-- they asked me to come to a cocktail hour tonight to celebrate my acceptance. I was wondering if you'd like to come with me?"

A devious grin slid onto Sera's face as she weighed her options, before a thought dawned heavily on her. Her shoulders sagged.

"I can't, Vee-- I'm taking a night shift for one of the other RA's tonight. Boo!"

Sur'vhena groaned, a hand slipping over her forehead, "Guess I'm going alone, then..."


	4. Liquid Courage

The evening was cold and breezy, and as the sun set, it was accompanied by thick clouds and a light snowfall. Sur'vhena hadn't expected this as she made the walk across the wide campus, to the hall where the cocktail hour would be held-- her thin jacket did nothing to stop the chill from reaching her bones. She rubbed her arms anxiously, hoping by the end of the evening that the snow might stop, so she could at least not be cold _and wet_ when she got home.

She was surprised, however, to enter the hall and find a few long tables lining the walls draped in white tablecloths, and a large assortment of hors d'oeuvres, including sweet little cakes and other delicacies. She nearly reached out and touched one, when a throat clearing stopped her dead in her tracks.

"I thought you might like those," A gravelly chuckle greeted her. She whirled around to see Master Tethras looking her up and down with a little grin. Her face warmed slightly as she nodded, "That was thoughtful of you."

The dwarf almost seemed embarrassed as he replied, "Eh, to be honest, it wasn't _just_  for you, but if you take my jackass-ery as a pleasant gesture, I won't refuse credit," shuffling and adjusting an uncomfortable looking tie.

"Well, thanks nonetheless, Mister..." She trailed off, awkwardly, allowing him to graciously take the reigns.

"Varric. Varric Tethras, at your service," he offered her a warm handshake.

The name sounded familiar, though it took a moment to register.

"Wait, Varric Tethras? Did you write--"

"Yeah, that was me," His hand rubbed the hair on the back of his neck, " _The Tale of the Champion, All This Shit is Weird, Hard in Hightown..._  All me."

"Wow. You're pretty famous," She couldn't help but comment.

"Maybe around literary junkies," Varric laughed.

"What can I say? When we visited the shemlen-- er, human, towns and cities, your books were some of the few I could get my hands on," Sur'vhena agreed, "Your books helped me learn to fit in the Free Marches a little easier."

"Andraste's ass," Varric roared laughter bounced around the hall, "You actually learned something from me? I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble! But thanks, kid. Always good to meet a fan--"

Their conversation suddenly ended, however, as Leliana strode to the center of the room, clinking a fork gently on a crystal flute of champagne to draw everyone's attention.

"Thank you for joining us everyone," She said, her voice carrying with purpose around the hall, "Tonight is a momentous occasion, after all."

Without breaking his gaze toward Leliana, Varric somehow managed to serve Sur'vhena then himself a flute of champagne, readying for an imminent toast.

"We will show the world with our passionate display that even when our heads bow, our backs will not break! And here, to our Lady of the Evening, Miss Sur'vhena Lavellan!"

She looked almost like a halla in the headlights when everyone's gaze fell on her, particularly when she recognized a late joiner who was engaged in respectfully quiet conversation across the room. Solas' ears twitched gently as he spoke, and his eyes flickered over her as his green clothed shoulders shrugged.

"Sur'vhena? Would you like to say anything?" Leliana prompted again, gently, drawing her mind back to the present.

"Y-yes, of course--" She managed to force out, stepping hesitantly into the clearing made in the center of the room. She took a deep breath.

"I just wanted to say," She fumbled at first, "Thank you, all, so much for nominating me, and for giving me this high honor. While I don't claim to be Andrastian,"

The crowd murmured at that declaration, "I hope that, in time, I can prove my dedication to this craft, and to all of you who have supported me along the way. So..." She raised her glass, "I say, don't toast me-- We should be toasting to everyone; together, we can do everything we set our minds to."

A chorus of, "Here, here!" and a smattering of applause meant that the focus was moved from her at last. Sur'vhena breathed a sigh of relief before she got back to the rest of the party.

* * *

 

A few hours passed, and Sur'vhena managed to power her way through the better part of four glasses of champagne-- the appetizers helped her to keep the alcohol at bay to the best of it's ability, but she could feel the drinks making their comeback, when--

"So, I'm told that you are our _Lady of the Evening_?"

The familiar voice was accompanied by an inviting chuckle as Solas stepped softly beside her, his cool, slender hand ghosting on her shoulder as if half a second too late, he reconsidered the action.

Not really knowing how to reply, Sur'vhena lifted the champagne to her lips and took a deep drought, her ears warming.

"Forgive me," He coughed, awkwardly, feeling the tangible possibility of overstepped boundaries, "I could not resist making light of the Dean's poor choice of words-- but perhaps you and I still are not quite up to that level of familiarity yet."

She attempted to push the embarrassment down into the pit of her stomach, "No, no-- Joke away!"

He quirked an eyebrow, a sly little grin forming, "Oh? You may learn to regret that... I've been known to be quite a trickster inn my time."

" _In your time_?" Sur'vhena bantered back, the champagne buzzing warmly inside her, "How old are you?"

He laughed.

"Old enough to know when to walk away," he said, turning to step toward another group of partygoers, "Though I did intend to give you my congratulations, _Herald_. I'm sure you've been told that I, as well as the other members of the Art department are all here to help you with this massive undertaking. Nonetheless, I am interested to see just what you'll do with your title..."

When his back at last turned, she tossed back the rest of glass number four, groaning internally. _Had he been flirting? That definitely felt like flirting... Wasn't_ _he the one who'd said it was not a good idea to flirt, in their current state?_

Dorian stepped into view this time, circling around her with a little smile.

"Need another glass?" He asked, taking the empty one for her and placing it on a table before fetching another.

"No, I--" She began to protest, when he gave her a little look, and her desire to make a good impression took over. _This was going to be like her job, remember?  Sometimes when you're working, you need to kiss up a little._

After that, she took it gracefully, sipping on it as he introduced himself officially.

"Dorian Pavus, formerly of Minrathus, currently Teacher's Aid for the world's most _dour_ man."

"Solas?" She clarified with a raised eyebrow and a little chuckle, "I don't know if I'd describe him as dour..."

Dorian laughed aloud, the warm sound echoing around them, "Well, I think you'd be the first _not_ to-- perhaps you just haven't disappointed him yet."

Her stomach flipped; perhaps that was true.

"Well, if it does happen eventually," Dorian attempted to backpedal, noticing how quiet and introspective she became, "Know that there are ways to talk him down. He's all bark and no bite, after all. He's also boorish, and boring, and..."

His slightly insulting trail of words faded off into the back of her mind as the alcohol flooded her cheeks. She suddenly felt like she was walking on air, the world starting to slow as her senses dulled to a buzz. She thanked Dorian for his time and left him be as she stepped away to sample the company of the others around her.

* * *

 

By the end of the evening, her drunken state had allowed her nerves to dissipate enough for her to meet every one of the major players in the coming Inquisition art show, save for a woman named Hawke, who was a special guest of the Dean and, apparently, according to Cassandra, the person Varric had based his character _Lady_ _Marielle_  from _Hard in Hightown_  on. If true, this was riveting information-- as well as a little known area that Cassandra and her could bond over. But, it was around this time that Sur'vhena found herself just about full up on riveting information, and bonding for that evening.

She sat in an over-sized armchair in the corner of the room, her eyes beginning to close, when Leliana stood to give a parting speech for the evening. It was succinct and to the point without being too curt, and allowed everyone to infer that it was time to go before they overstayed their welcome-- though Sur'vhena's limbs protested heavily, feeling like lead when she attempted to rouse them.

Varric chuckled when he stepped past her, quietly commenting, "Must have been nervous tonight. Poor kid," before giving Solas a nudge, "Hey, find someone to help her get home, will you? I'm steppin' out for a smoke."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Solas and a few stragglers behind, though no student to wrangle in for help. Solas bit his lip, his brow furrowing as he attempted to wrap his mind around what had just happened. Her eyelids fluttered gently as he processed.

"Solas?" She asked, stretching slightly, and allowing a small yawn to slip out, "What happened? Where is everyone?"

"It seems you fell asleep, Lethallan," He prompted gently, a smile gracing his lips, "The celebration is over, however, and it's time to go home. Do you need help getting there?"

In a characteristically drunken fashion, she seemed to consider how well it might go when she was alone for a moment.

"I--I think I can make it," she nodded resolutely, beginning to get to her feet. This seemed to be mostly talk, however, as she wobbled slightly and grabbed onto his arm for support. He stiffened, though he allowed it, and cast a wary eye over her.

"I think in this case, it might be best to err on the side of caution," He sighed softly, helping to steady her as he put on his jacket, before leading them to the door, "Which dormitory do you live in?"

She giggled, surprising him, "I'm just two dorms away from the art building-- in the _Crystal Grace_ Hall. Talk about lucky,"

He couldn't help but smile; it was clear that she adored her studies, even in this state.

"I'm glad you enjoy your work so much," He commented, "Some find our program tedious... Just ask Dorian."

They paused to cross the street.

"Oh, Dorian's not so bad," Sur'vhena interjected, "He seems like a nice enough guy, and a hard worker on top of that."

He couldn't resist chuckling at her bluntness, "I suppose I'll have to take your word for it, Lethallan."

"Vhena."

She stopped, wobbling slightly as the wind whipped up around her, shooting cold down her spine.

"... Come again?"

She shifted uncomfortably as he turned to face her; she couldn't meet his eyes.

"Call me 'Vhena. All this _Lethallan_ stuff, it... It takes me back home, and-- I... I haven't heard from my clan since I got here. It kinda... Makes me homesick."

He seemed to consider for a moment, before answering carefully, "I see... But... calling you _Vhena_? ... I'm not sure I can do that."

She only seemed slightly off-put as she crossed her arms, shivering, "Fine, then. Sur'vhena. Just... something different. Please."

"I apologize. I did not mean to offend," Solas' brow furrowed, trying to judge her reaction, "I only meant to say... Calling you _Vhena_ \-- to name one a nickname, so close to a word after your heart-- you must be loved very much..."

Her sad smile didn't reach her eyes, "I was the first of the Keeper for Clan Lavellan... But my parent's named me with the same care as anyone else-- the Dalish pour their love and aspirations into all of their children. I wanted to make them proud. But, coming here--"

"Got you an incredible scholarship, and a chance to study that you otherwise wouldn't have," Solas interjected, beginning to remove his outer jacket with a sense of finality.

"What are you doing?"

"Keeping my student from freezing," He answered, a certain amount of strictness in his voice as he threw it over her shoulders, and gave her a gentle push forward, "now it's time to get you back to your dorm. Come."

Part of her still didn't want to move, her stomach suddenly lurching violently; the fade pulsed through her hand like an electric shock, bringing the world into sudden, sharp focus.

"Stop! Wait just a minute-- Creators, I think I'm gonna be sick--" She groaned, rushing to the nearest patch of bushes to upend the contents of her stomach as her art history professor watched on in pity. He slowly stepped to her side as she finished, her head pounding as she resisted the urge to wipe her face on his jacket sleeve.

_Wouldn't that be icing on the cake to this night?_

"Ugh, I'm so sorry," She moaned, her head throbbing.

"There, there," Solas' gentle voice was accompanied by a hand rubbing small circles on her back, his sincere kindness making her feel all the more embarrassed, "Are you alright?"

"I-I think so," she answered sheepishly, "The fade, and-and the scar, they,"

"They interact in interesting ways, don't they?" He finished for her.

She nodded, giving him an interested look.

"I meant to ask the other day," She shifted, "When you said that my dreaming about you wasn't just a pickup line. What did you mean?"

"Ah," He sat back on his haunches, "Yes. That."

"Well?"

Solas considered how to answer the question, "You spoke before of how, possessing magic gives you unique contact with spirits, did you not?"

Sur'vhena seemed unimpressed by this beginning, "I did... What does that have to do with it?"

"My expertise," He continued, ignoring the question, "Is that of dreams. After the bomb threat, I was practically ordered by the dean, among others, to dream at the site, and see what information I could find-- magical signatures or otherwise."

"And that brought you to me..." Sur'vhena put the pieces together, giving her left hand a glance, "Does that mean you're a _Somniari_?"

Solas couldn't stop from rolling his eyes, "If you _must_ use the coined human term, then I suppose I am."

"Well, it worked, didn't it? You found me," She shrugged considering for a moment.

"Ok, I think I can move again. Help me up?"

"Sure," Solas answered, extending a hand to help her back to her feet. She laughed awkwardly as she got back up, wobbling again until he steadied her against his   
shoulder.

"What is it?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"Oh! Nothing," She quipped, a bit too quickly, her ears growing hot, "It's just... It explains a lot."

"Does it?"

She pushed off him just slightly, her dorm coming into view, " _I_ think it does. I mean, you found me in real life... So, that's why you stopped showing up in my dreams, right?"  
  
It was his turn to go slightly warm, though he hoped not visibly.

"When I found out our _relationship_ , it seemed a bit... inappropriate, to continue watching you, from such dreams," He reasoned.

"Well, perhaps in _some_ ways," She laughed, "But you said it yourself-- you don't _have_ to be a stranger."

"In regards to your _schoolwork_ , Miss Lavellan," He quirked an eyebrow. 

She tutted softly, " _Sur'vhena_ ," with a devious smile creeping on her lips, "But I also want to throw around ideas for the show, you know? I figured you might be able to help me with  _that_ at least..."

"If I can help, I will," Solas shrugged, "But I believe it's time you got back to your room... Before you say something you might regret, _Sur'vhena_."

She laughed, the sound bouncing musically around the walls before her, "I guess you're right... Good night, _Solas_. Thanks for getting me home safely."

"Good night," He replied, watching as she scanned her id, opened the door, and snapped it shut, slipping from view.

_She did become daring when she drank, didn't she?_


	5. Building Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short plot progressing chapter-- more coming shortly!

Sur'vhena awoke with a massive headache and more morbid embarrassment than she knew how to cope with.

She'd been _way_   too forward, and _way_   too flirtatious with someone who only meant to be respectful around her. Sure, he'd admitted, in a roundabout way, that there'd been some attraction between them, but-- that hadn't given her license to run wild with the way she treated him.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

She couldn't imagine facing him.

She couldn't imagine setting foot in his classroom again.

She needed a way to smooth things over with him.

 

However, Dorian proved to be less than helpful with this.

"You _what?_ " He cackled, when she told him during his office hours that next week. She shushed him quickly.

"I know, I'm an idiot-- open mouth, insert foot," She hissed, "What can I  _do_?!"

"Sorry, sorry--" Dorian laughed, attempting to calm down as he spoke, "But, seriously... _him_? Of _all_ the staff members, it... it just-- _him_?"

"I happen to _like_ art history-- and a quick wit, I--" She backpedaled, mortified once more, "Will you quit judging me?!"

"Haaaa," Dorian sighed blissfully, "I haven't laughed that hard in ages. _Quick wit_ ," The glare she gave him made his laughter abate momentarily, "But, right. I'm here to help."

"I've screwed everything up, though," She groaned, folding into her arms on the table between them gloomily, "It's been a few days since I've even _seen_ him, and I still have his coat-- it's not like I can just bring him a cup of coffee and his coat back, and say ' _Hey, sorry I threw up and then hit on you outside my dorm room, even though you're my teacher and it's totally inappropriate. My bad_ '."

"Couldn't you?" A playful eyebrow quirk had Sur'vhena giving Dorian a little shove, until he continued, "And for the record, back in Tevinter I did some _way_ worse stuff to the guys I dated."  
  
"... Really?"

He smirked, "Buy me a drink sometime, I'll tell you some stories that will almost literally kill you with second hand embarrassment."

"You're on," Sur'vhena laughed, "But in the meantime, will you _please_ bring me the notes for next class?"

"Only because you're quickly becoming one of my best friends here," Dorian replied with a little grin. He stood up, shaking his head one more time, chuckling, " _a quick wit..._ " as he walked away.

Sur'vhena's ears burned.

* * *

 

As Sur'vhena made her way back to her dorm, she steeped in her thoughts quietly. She knew she couldn't avoid him forever-- even skipping another lecture was technically asking for trouble. Still, she wanted some time to clear her head-- every time she thought about the way he'd gently steadied her, comforted her, and ghosted his arms around her the night before, she felt her stomach drop a little.

There wasn't any point in beating around the bush anymore-- She liked him.

It was terrifying, how much she liked him-- even more so when she thought of the possibility that he might feel similarly. Neither of them had outright admitted anything, that of course was true, but he _had_ admitted to indulging her banter when they'd first met, at the time not knowing that she was his student.

_She was his student._

Her heart hammered in her chest as she entered the building, running up a flight of stairs to her floor and coming up fast on her door.

He couldn't _possibly_ have a thing for his student, right? He didn't seem like that kind of guy. Thinking about their... whatever it was, like that, seemed kind of... skeevy.

_But, in the same breath,_ she attempted to reason with herself, _we are both consenting adults. We both know that I wouldn't be in this just to keep up my grade in art history-- I already enjoy the subject matter!_

Sur'vhena groaned-- was that _really_ how she attempted to justify it?

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that she was alone in the room itself. Tossing her things to the side, she flopped heavily onto the futon she and Sera shared. Flipping upside down, she glared across the room at the coat hung delicately over her desk chair. It was a cool, dark brown jacket with a thick padded maroon lining-- far too big for her. She'd woken up that morning last week wrapped in it, mortified to realize that it had his scent, and that she even remembered what he might smell like.

It was how she knew there was no denying her attraction. Just thinking about him made her heart beat faster.

She groaned in frustration, sitting up and picking up the nearest throw pillow. She threw it hard at the coat-- it bounced off ineffectively, but it was just satisfying enough to bring her out of her fog. She had other things to focus on, after all.

Like further attempts to contact her clan.

She'd finally received a phone number via email, early that morning, from one of the younger members of the clan, Kithrun'ael. They'd mentioned that the clan was about to pick up and move again, which meant that cell service was spotty at best, and virtually non-existent at worst-- but really, what struck Sur'vhena as odd, however, that they'd chosen to wait until now to not only move, but to contact her as well. She'd emailed Kith back, however, and let them know that she'd call as soon as she was able.

[11:00 AM]

This seemed as good a time as any.

She unlocked her phone, and dialed in the number, slowly to reduce errors, even as her hands shook gently. _Why did she have such a bad feeling?_

Calling.

Ringing.

  
Ringing.

 

Ringing.

  
A click.

"H-Hello?"

"Sur'vhena?"

Kith's voice was hard to hear over the static on their end.

"Kit!" Her voice flooded with relief, though a sudden whine in the speaker made her heart jump, "Can you hear me?"

"Barely," came Kith's scratchy reply, "We're moving into a dead zone pretty quickly.

"Why are you guys on the move already?" The question shot out of her mouth before she could stop it, "It's going to frost soon over there, isn't it? The Halla will want to roost, won't they?"

"Normally we wouldn't, but---" more static, this time interrupting for a fair moment, "--really bad. There's a lot of civil unrest, and--"

"Kit?" Sur'vhena clarified, "You're cutting in and out!"

"Sorry-- --Service, really -- shitty -- --an I --all you back?"

Sur'vhena sighed.

"Call me when you can, I guess?"

"--Try," Kithrun'ael answered, their voice tinged in resigned sadness, "Hope to--- --ear from you --oon,"

Click.

Suddenly she was utterly alone once more, now with even more questions than answers. She flopped back onto her back, blowing her bangs back as she stared at the ceiling.

_There had to be another way to get into contact with them!_

Her mind flashed to when she'd encountered Solas for the first time-- not at the coffee shop, but--

_In her dreams._

* * *

Sur'vhena fell asleep at the end of the week with more than a few problems that wouldn't seem to mend. She'd missed her physical therapy appointment, which she was sure she'd get an earful about eventually, but this felt like the least of her problems.

 

When she'd called, the receptionist answered in his flat voice, "You're not coming today."

"No, Cole... I'm not," She'd said, her voice honeyed with her apology.

"They'll be upset," Cole answered, in his usual way.

He felt her emotions in a way that had to be tied to magic, she was sure of it.

"I can't help it," She nearly whined, "There's a lot going on."

"I can't stop them from being upset, but I'll tell them you called," Cole sighed, the scratching of a pencil on paper heard far away.

"Thank you, Cole. I'll see you next week," she promised, closing her eyes and breathing deep as she hung up the phone.

 

 

  
That was a few hours ago-- and now, here she was, on the edge of sleep, worrying about how she still hadn't heard back from her clan.

And how she still had no way to deal with her feelings about her professor.

And how she had missed her physical therapy appointment.

" _Fuuuck_ ," she groaned internally, hoping Sera didn't awake from her noise. _fuck it. I'll take these things on in the morning._

Turning over, she attempted to drown out her thoughts as her body sunk into the soft bed-- she concentrated on the feeling of the blanket, the pillow cupping her head, and--

 

 

She opened her eyes to a familiar forest, with golden eyes watching her from her peripheral.

_No way._


	6. Touchy Subject

She was barefoot, walking lightly through the sun-speckled brush as she tended to rabbit traps and other small details, all the while watching from her peripheral as the direwolf tailed her. It seemed somehow different than before-- still quiet, still menacing, but...

She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Perhaps it was because, for the first time in a while, she felt lucid in the Fade. Everything felt like it was under a microscope, ultimately very sharp and in focus-- each leaf moved in the soft breeze, each small crackle with the rise and fall of her feet, everything was alive and alert, making her feel on edge.

She continued onward, however, knowing where the path, and the direwolf, would eventually lead: the silver pool was a few yards ahead of her now, and as she rounded into the clearing, she was surprised to see that beneath the golden tree was--

empty?

"Huh..."

Usually, this was where the dream ended-- she'd lock eyes with him, and then snap awake... But this time, no Solas, and with no Solas... She didn't really know what to do next.

The direwolf came out into the light, glancing lazily at her before it put it's head down to lap at the silvery pool. It's ears and posture were so relaxed that if Sur'vhena didn't know any better, she might have mistaken it for any of the other trained dogs she'd seen in Ferelden. She found her hand outstretching to ruffle the fur on the scruff of it's neck, when a sound to their right had both of them whipping around to see.

"I'm not sure you want to do that," Solas cautioned, stepping into view, "In dreams, there are many meanings for wolves-- though the first that comes to mind is usually danger."

She sighed, withdrawing her hand. She knew he was right, but didn't want to admit it. Seeing him like this flooded her with all of the emotions she was trying to figure out, and she very quickly began to feel overloaded.

"Are you alright?" Solas asked, stepping closer. His brow furrowed, as his face tinged slightly with worry.

"I-- Yes-- No? Maybe?" She shook her head, attempting to push the butterflies back into the pit of her stomach, "What can I say?"

"You missed class," Solas prompted, quietly, "Again. I thought something might have happened. Curiosity got the better of me, and, well, you did--"

"Tell you not to be a stranger, yeah, yeah," Sur'vhena finished for him, shaking her head and chuckling, "Serves me right, I guess."

"Did I do something wrong?"

The question surprised her, though it probably shouldn't have.

"No, I just--" Her eyes followed the direwolf, who'd begun walking in wide circles around them, "I'd just hoped I'd have put together something better to say, when I saw you next... That's all."

"Something better to say?" He quirked an eyebrow as the wolf walked brazenly up to him, nudging it's head under his elbow. He patted it gently.

"Oh good, it _likes_ you," She chuckled offhandedly, "I wonder what _that_ means."

Solas laughed, scratching it behind the ears as he spoke, "As I said before, _Lethallan_ , the wolf can have many meanings-- your love of nature, playing with danger, suffering, raw sexual desir--"

His eyebrow ticked upward ever so slightly as she interrupted him curtly.

" _Lethallan, Lethallan_ \-- I told you, call me Vhena. No one else seems to really mind."

"I apologize," he sighed, taking his hand away from the direwolf who took that as it's signal to depart, "Given your state the last time we talked, I didn't know if that was actually the case... I meant no offense."

"No, I know-- I just," Sur'vhena carded her fingers through her hair, "All you give me are mixed signals! We shouldn't flirt, but then you _do_ flirt, and you're _so_  gentle around me, and-- _clever_ , and--"

She threw her arms up, surrendering with a heavy sigh as Solas watched on in silence.

"There's no point in me beating around the bush here-- there's a chance that this is just a dream, so let me say what I need to say, alright?"

He nodded, slowly, though they both knew there wasn't a chance at this point that this was an ordinary dream. She could swear that his eyes had widened, his pupils dilating in expectation.

"I-- I think... I like you, okay?" She confessed, "Ever since that day, at the coffee shop-- and then, in your office-- you... caught my eye."

He cleared his throat, casting an eye over the pool in front of them.

"I must admit, you've... caught my eye, as well. But, Sur'vhena, we--"

"I know!" She interrupted, folding her arms protectively in front of herself, "Student and personnel relationships are most likely frowned upon,"

"If there _isn't_ an expressly written rule, there is most likely an un-written one," he added in a small aside.

"Yes," She furrowed her brows at him, "But-- We're two consenting _adults_! Who's to say that we couldn't--"

"In the eyes of the school," Solas interrupted, "We are seen as student and teacher. Regardless of our status as adults, consenting or otherwise, it would not be wise to continue talking about this."

"Solas..."

"Sur'vhena," His voice softened, "You're an intelligent, beautiful young woman. Surely you have other prospects than a stuffy, dour art teacher."

"Prospects," she scoffed, "Solas, I haven't felt this way about _anyone_ in a long time... I don't want to just give up now. It's not fair to ask me to..."

Her mind whirred as they sat in depressed silence for a moment. There _had_ to be a way to make things work-- her heart was alive and roaring bright with his admission of feelings.

"What if..."

"Yes?" She asked, her eyes snapping back up to meet his.

"What if you promise to never take one of my classes again," He sighed, running his long fingers up the back of his neck resignedly.

"What? Why would I--?" She seemed incensed by the thought, til he shushed her.

"Just hear me out-- if you are not in my class, there is no conflict of interest, and less likelihood of backlash, were our... dalliances to be discovered."

"Oh," She considered for a moment, rolling the idea around in her mind before asking, "But, what about our current class, then?"

"That is the difficult part," he agreed with a sad smile, "Do you think you would be able to wait until the current semester is finished?"

"I-- Yes!" the words flooded easily from her, without a second thought, "If you're willing to try, then I'm willing to wait!"

She felt suddenly giddy.

"Well then," He smiled, tenderly, "I'm pleased that we can come to an agreement... Hopefully this means you won't have any further desire to skip out on my lectures."

Sur'vhena chuckled softly, "Well, I hate to say it _now_ , but you weren't the only reason..."

"Oh?" He seemed surprised, "Why was that?"

"I... I finally got _some_ sort of correspondence from my clan," She said softly.

Solas' shoulders stiffened ever so slightly, "And?"

"A-all I got was a phone number," She stammered, suddenly nervous at the way he'd begun to clam up, "And, when I called, they were moving into a dead-zone, phone service wise, and... They don't normally go on the move at this time of year. I feel like something is wrong."

"I think you're worrying too much," He began to say, though she cut in with a warning glance.

"I think I'd know my people, Solas."

"Your people?" Solas scoffed, sitting down on the dirt to face the silvery pool, cutting his eyes from her sight line, "The Dalish _as a whole_ don't even know their people, Sur'vhena."

"Excuse me? _Just what is that supposed to mean_?"

"The Dalish," he began again, attempting to reign in the distaste in his voice, his eyes narrowing as he spoke, "have a thousand and one ways to do the same thing, varying from clan to clan, and each one thinks they're doing it the _right_ way. The way the ancient elvhen did. Even with hard _evidence_ to the contrary, they prefer to do things the bastardized way, by word of mouth, all for the sake of tradition... It boggles my mind that as an obviously intelligent free thinker, you'd defend them."

"Woah, where is this coming from?!" Sur'vhena questioned, anger flaring inside her chest, "What happened to _Lethallan_ this, and  _Lethallan_ that? I didn't think _you'd_  be one to hold a grudge-- particularly not against other elves!"

Solas took a deep breath, understanding that he'd overstepped his bounds. Sur'vhena continued, however.

"I get that not every clan is the same, but-- Creators, can't you even think for a _moment_  that maybe one-- just _one_ clan out there might have _something_ right? Besides, this isn't even _about_ the Dalish, as a whole-- this is about _my_ clan. My family!"

She exhaled slowly, then faced him once more.

"Which leads to the original point I was trying to make... My keeper told me a long time ago about how Somniari's strength lies in dreams... I was told that you could find almost anyone or anything, if given the proper training and instructions... It seems like you've got a good handle on it, and... I don't know, I was--"

"No," came his answer, flatly, as he inferred what she was suggesting.

"Solas, please..."

"Leth--Sur'vhena," he corrected himself, "I'm sorry, but even if I <could> do that for you, it's not my place to!"

"But Solas, I thought you of all people would understand--"

"I thought I made it perfectly clear, I feel no kinship to the Dalish!" He snapped, surprising her with the renewed vitriol in his voice.

"Kinship or not, at least--"

"If I may be so forward," Solas' voice was icy, "I'm going to take a guess that _even though_ every clan is not the same, _your_ Dalish do not trust outsiders. Am I correct?"

The words were not so much said as they were spit.

"That--"

" _It is an insult_ , to hear that you demand because we are of common ancestry, that I should indulge some unfounded feeling of unease about a travelling clan of elves!"

Sur'vhena was blinking back angry tears, "They're my family, Solas!"

"All the more reason it is not my place!" He shouted, throwing his arms up in frustration, "Right now, I am your _teacher_! Not some convenient scrying tool for you to _use_ whenever you please."

"How _dare_ you?!" she snapped, the angry tears now streaming down her cheeks, "I mean-- That you could actually think I'm just attempting to _use_ you?! After _Everything_ we just talked about?!"

She wrenched her eyes open, ending the dream and throwing herself bolt upright in bed. Her hands found their way to her cheeks, swiping away the tears that had fallen in her sleep.

She was so undeniably angry.

_What did he have against the Dalish, to be so bitter?_

She glanced at the clock, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the utter darkness as Sera snored on from across the room

[4:45 AM]

While it was technically to early for her to just get up and go, the itch to burn off her feelings was strong enough to pull her out of bed. She threw on some running clothes and headed out the door, stretching as she went. She could feel the anger and stress in every muscle, like a toxic little twinge that she was desperate to get rid of.

 _Just a light run,_  she promised herself, _I just need to work this out._

It was then she realized that she'd forgotten her headphones, and cell phone-- something that usually made her morning runs that much harder. This dark morning, however, she found the extra adversity to be a welcome change. As she began, she attempted to lose herself in the sound of her shoes stamping the pavement, and on the ragged in and out of her breath. It worked, if momentarily, to distract her until very little thought remained.

After a while, however, she found herself slowing down-- a stranger trudged slowly in front of her, effectively blocking the trail.

Sur'vhena groaned under her breath, slowing down so she didn't run into him by accident.

"Excuse me," she prompted, trying to filter the slight annoyance out of her tone. The stranger only half acknowledged her, glancing back and giving a huffy sigh.

"Fuck off," was his only reply. He continued at his slow, ambling pace.

Her temper flared once again. _When it rains, it pours._

"Creators," she sucked air through her teeth, "All I said was _excuse me_!"

"And all _I_ said, knife-ear, was _fuck off_ ," he growled, turning around suddenly to face her.

Her heart rate spiked when she saw it; red little bolts of lightning arcing around his eyes, just barely visible as a red glow emitting from him in the dark of the early morning. She'd only seen something similar once before-- a lyrium ritual gone bad-- though that had been blue.

_So what was this?_

He lunged suddenly, his fingers clamping tightly around her shoulders and digging in, making her squeal in surprise. UP close, she could see the red light leeching into his eyes, his pupils heavily dilated as his mouth twisted into a manic grin. They tumbled to the ground together, the force and unbalance pinning her beneath him.

"Somebody, Help--!"

The words were barely out of her mouth when his fist connected with her jaw, a heavy metal ring catching her lip roughly. One hand clamped around her throat tightly as he struck her, and she cried out, attempting to shield her face and neck from further onslaught. All at once, the man was suddenly and forcefully removed from on top of her.

"Oi, just what the fuck is going on here?!" A deep gravelly voice bellowed from beside her now.

She was extremely dazed, flat on her back with the taste of iron mixing with saliva dribbling down her chin. She attempted to smear it away, focusing her eyes on her attacker as she scrambled backward, only to see him pinned face down with his hands behind his back, snarling like a wounded animal.

"Get the fuck off me," he growled, his red eyes still glowing against his pallid skin. The man pinning him laughed, a gruff unfeeling bark, "Not a chance in hell."

He then looked back at her, "Miss, are you alright?"

"I---I don't know,"

She hated the quiver in her voice.

The man's tone softened ever so slightly as he addressed her further, "Do you have a cellphone on you?"

She seemed to be coming out of shock, the adrenaline bringing tears to her eyes.

"No," she sniffed, swiping again at her lip with the back of her hand, and only succeeding at rubbing more dirt on her face. Her newfound savior sighed quietly, pulling his phone off his belt with one hand and handing it to her, while maintaining his grip on the attacker's wrists.

"Here-- Call the police, I'll keep this one still."

Shakily, she agreed, taking the phone from him and dialing the emergency number. A dispatcher answered, and she relayed what had happened quickly.

"What did they say?"

"They-y're sending someone," she gulped, "He should be here soon."

"Good," he seemed to approve of this answer, though he still held fast to the attacker.

The officers arrived within the hour, taking the glowing-eyed man into custody. Relieved of guard duty, her savior stood beside her and stretched his arms above his head, his shoulder giving an appreciative little pop, before he fished into his pocket to retrieve a neatly folded handkerchief.

"Here, for your nose--er, lip," he said gruffly. She tried to wave him off, "Oh, no, I--"

"Don't make me beg," A smile twitched through his heavy beard.

"Thank you..."

Hesitantly, she accepted, wincing as the somewhat starchy fabric touched her swollen lip.

"I'm Thom, by the way," He extended a hand for her to shake, "Thom Rainier."

"Sur'vhena," she answered in kind, "Sur'vhena Lavellan. I-- Well, thank you, for saving me..."

He scoffed at that.

"Please. I just wish I'd caught him _before_ he did any damage. I just heard you screaming, and--"

He went quiet, seeing that words to describe the situation weren't necessary at the moment. Sur'vhena nodded in acknowledgement.

A tall, freckled officer stepped toward them at this time, clearing his throat softly.


	7. Report

Leliana marched up the steps to the police station like a woman on a warpath, throwing the doors open and briskly stepping to the front desk. The receptionist, a blonde elf with tan skin and a name tag that read _Velanna_ barely looked up from her paperwork, simply speaking, "Name, please?"

"Leliana," The redhead stated impatiently, "What's going on? Alistair called me-- he said it was important."

"Wait here," Velanna simply sighed, motioning to the waiting room.

Resignedly, Leliana obliged, though she did not sit-- she simply moved to a corner near a decrepit looking pot of coffee, and waited.

When the doors opened, a tall officer with ruddy hair and freckles dusting his forearms greeted her, "Leliana!"

"Alistair!" She gasped, surprised at how many years seemed to jump away at that moment, "What's going on? Your message was so unclear-- Is--"

He shook his head, "No-- it's not about _her_ this time," turning and holding a door open for Leliana to follow him, "Something else happened we thought you should be aware of..."

Heading down a hallway, they came upon a heavy metal door, which Detective Alistair Theirin unlocked gently, revealing it to be some sort of break room. Inside sat Sur'vhena, cradling a styrofoam cup of coffee and wrapped in a thin, ratty blanket. Beside her, Thom Rainier sat on his phone uncomfortably, glancing up for only a second to size Leliana up before he went back to his business.

"We... Didn't really know who else to call," Alistair confessed, "Between her being a visitor to Ferelden, and having no emergency contact, it--"

"It was good of you to call me," Leliana interrupted, resolutely, "After all, she's the one I've been telling you about."

Alistair looked surprised, "Wha-- Really?"

Sur'vhena looked up at Leliana, then over to Alistair, "You've been talking about me?"

Leliana nodded.

"I'm afraid, I haven't told you _everything_ about why you were made the _face_ of our oncoming art show."

* * *

Alistair made a fresh pot of coffee, passing around a few mugs and slapping a manila folder on the table.

"So-- You're the one who survived the blast then, huh? No wonder that scratch on your hand looks healed up!"

The room had a grim air as Alistair's statement fell flat. He cleared his throat awkwardly, "Right..."

Glancing up, he realized that Thom was still sitting in the corner, "Oh. Yeah. Thom, you're free to go-- we're just about to discuss some sensitive information, so--"

Thom chuckled, "Grown up talk, I see. I got it, I'm going," before giving Sur'vhena a gentle pat on the back.

"I'll keep my eye out for you, on campus," he nodded.

"Thanks," She said, nearly smiling as color tinged her cheeks.  
  
Leliana followed him with her eyes, relaxing as the door closed.

"He's a fantastic security guard, isn't he?"

"Would have made a fantastic officer," Alistair agreed wistfully.

"Would have?" Sur'vhena was curious.

"Criminal record," Leliana shrugged, "Disqualified him from anything law enforcement, but he said he wanted to help people. Campus has never been safer-- and it sounds like you have him to thank now, as well."

Sur'vhena's hands found their way to her neck, where purple bruises were already beginning to grow, "... Yes."

"But that's not why we're here." Leliana clarified, motioning to Alistair, "Please, continue."

"Right. Well-- Miss Lavellan, was it true you were unconscious, in the first week or two after the blast?"

Sur'vhena's eyes snapped open wide, "Am I--"

Leliana palmed her forehead, groaning, "Alistair, you _know_ she was. We gave you a full report, medical records-- everything. It should be well documented. Keep going."

Alistair coughed, "Yes. So--- while you were out, local officers and detectives narrowed down some possible suspects from the guest list, and attempted to find a possible motive as to why someone would try to interrupt the peace talks in the first place. Then, a name showed up that I hadn't heard in a _long_ time. _Corypheus._ "

Sur'vhena raised an eyebrow.

"Corypheus? Is that someone I should know?"

"He's a famous art dealer, collector, and critic," Leliana jumped in, "Originally from Tevinter."

"More importantly," Alistair continued, "The last time he was in Ferelden, he was arrested on attempted assault charges, as well as stalking, blackmail, all kinds of stuff. But..."

"But?"

"Somehow, he made bail, or had in an with his caseworkers, and... we don't know what happened. The building holding any information about to his case went up in flames shortly afterward. No one had any time to back up the files, either."

"So what-- this guy just... Disappeared? Without a trace?"

"We assumed he'd fled the country-- maybe back to Tevinter," Alistair nodded, "But not before taking care of some loose ends."

"Loose ends?" Sur'vhena asked.

Leliana nodded, grimly, "Apparently just after the court case, Varric found his brother collapsed in their parent's company building, overdosed on a drug similar to Lyrium-- He'd been sent it in the form of some kind of statue, and they'd never seen anything like it. When they took it back for testing, it..."

"It was too strong to test here," Alistair finished for her, "People were getting contact highs just getting _near_ the stuff. It makes the air stuffy, makes you manic. It feels _alive_. You start to see things-- It--"

"Makes you glow red," Sur'vhena nodded, interrupting him.

Leliana's brow furrowed, "Yes."

"We believe Corypheus is currently the only supplier," Alistair used this opportunity to open the file, spreading out pictures and paperwork in front of them, "And we've only recently seen an upswing in users. It may be possible to draw him out, with a taunt that he didn't finish whatever he'd attempted to accomplish... But at this point, nothing is absolute."

"Which is why we were hoping you'd still be up for a press conference, or two..." Leliana concluded.

* * *

 

It was settled-- in the coming week, Sur'vhena was expected to attend a televised press conference, detailing her project, as well as the other artists included in the show, in an attempt to flush Corypheus out of hiding. Alistair let her know that officers would be on hand at all times, escorting her and the other guests to and from the event. His warm smile diffused her nerves on _that_ subject for the moment, but after the morning's excitement, she felt utterly and completely overwhelmed.

She hadn't given the project nearly enough thought, and now, to have to present it next week, this was-- She felt like collapsing and crying. It all felt like too much.

Sur'vhena rounded the corner of the police station to see Varric standing there, hands in his pockets, chatting pleasantly with one of the officers. It took him a moment to register as he glanced in her direction, and when he made the connection, he stopped mid sentence, his jaw dropping.

"Andraste's tits," he breathed, "Lavellan, is that you?"

She didn't know what it was about him, but something about Varric's familiarity caused the floodwaters within her to break. Her legs crumpled beneath her, as heavy tears dribbled down her cheeks. Surprised, the dwarf launched forward, attempted to catch her and steady her against his small frame as she became wracked with sobs.

"Woah, woah, hey," He hushed her, his hands rubbing gently up and down her upper arms, "Hey, kid-- It's okay-- you're safe now..."

"Mr. T-Tethras," she hiccuped, attempting to gain control of herself once more, "I-I'm sorry, I d-don't know what came over m-me--"

"Varric," He corrected, softly, "And don't worry about it-- Look, you're obviously shook up, so--"  
  
"I-It's fine," She denied, taking a deep breath, "I'm just really... overwhelmed. I-- I don't really want to go back to the dorm right now, but--"

"I think I get it," He nodded.

A door behind them opened, and neither of the two could resist turning to see just who walked through it--

A tall woman with dark hair and red lips, and a recognizable facial scar was dressed in a red top and soft looking black pants, cropped at the knee with leather boots. She looked between them perplexedly for a moment, before pressing an index finger to her chin, in mock thought.

"So...?"

Varric chuckled, "Not even worth getting into, since I don't know the story myself," before he fished a keyring out of his pocket. Pulling one key off it in particular, he tossed the others to her in one fluid motion, "I'll introduce you properly later. For now, head back to my apartment, okay _Hawke_? I'll meet you there in a little while."

_Hawke._

_So that's the famous Hawke._

Sur'vhena hated to admit it, but she had always thought it to be something like a stage name-- it seemed somehow odd to hear the dwarf calling her that, plain as day,   
now. Nonetheless, Hawke seemed unphased by it all, simply shrugging and heading toward the front door, "All right-- See you soon, _tender heart_."

"Alright, Alright, _Chuckles,_ " Varric waved her away.

As the door swung nearly shut behind her, they both heard her comment, "I heard that wasn't _my_ nickname anymore," and Varric chuckled huskily under his breath.

"How are you doing, kid? Can you stand?"

Sur'vhena felt utterly foolish as she realized she was practically being cradled by him still, "Ah-- yeah, sorry, just let me--"

She wiped her face with her palm as she got back to her feet, wishing desperately that she had a change of clothes-- a sweatshirt, anything-- with her. Suddenly she felt cold, and her body leaden.

"So, where can I take you?" He prompted, motioning to the front door before leading her out. Her head spun as she tried to decide.

"I don't know-- I just-- anywhere but the dorms, please."

Varric considered for a moment as they walked, the sun casting a warm glow over the sleepy town. He made his way to a cherry red convertible, the top still up as a little smile graced his features.

"I think I have just the idea," he said, unlocking it, "Get in."

* * *

 

  
They arrived on campus and parked in the teacher's lot, Varric locking the car and motioning for her to follow him. The car ride itself had been silent, though Sur'vhena had to be honest, she'd been glad he didn't try to pry.

He did seem curious, however, as she caught him glancing over at her scrapes and bruises more than once. At last, she prompted him, somewhat annoyed, "What?"

"Nothing--" Varric protested, putting his hands up as they continued the walk up into the building housing the English department, "Honestly, I just can't figure out how I ended up running into you _there_ of all places--"

"I-- I went out running, super early this morning," Sur'vhena shot back, defensively, "Alright? I had a bad dream, woke up, couldn't get back to sleep, and decided to try to clear my head!"

Varric paused, giving her a confused look, "Okay, so you went running...?"

Sur'vhena groaned, shaking her head, "You don't _really_ want to know, do you?"

"I mean, admitting you were out running does raise more questions than answers, but--"

"Some guy jumped me."

"Oh."

"He was apparently _super_  high on this crazy drug, it-- it made him glow red, I don't know,"

" _Oh._ "

It was Varric's turn to be bothered now, as they stepped down the hallway on the ground floor, leading to the professor's private offices. They paused in front of one in particular, as Varric turned to face her.

"I-- hey. Believe it or not, I think I can relate to that more than a lot of the other people you've interacted with today, alright? So here-- Here's a place where no one will bother you, at least until you're ready. Alright?"

Sur'vhena nodded, her throat suddenly dry as she watched Varric open the door to his office by pressing a series of small buttons hidden behind a metal slat on the door itself.

"A _ton_  of people'd be pretty jealous of you right now-- learning to use Bianca's secret technology," He smirked to himself.

"Bianca?"

"An old ex-girlfriend," He shrugged, "We're still alright friends, I guess. This was a _Congrats on becoming a teacher/avoiding your editors_  present. But,"

The door gave a small groan when it opened, revealing a wood paneled room with a modest desk and a soft looking black couch, the walls lined with bookshelves stacked top to bottom with literature. A window to the outside was covered in a soft linen curtain, with the window itself cracked to let in the morning breeze.

"If you can promise me you won't abuse the privilege," He grinned, "You're welcome to stick around in here as long as you want. Just lock up on your way out."

"S-Sure," Sur'vhena nodded, as Varric passed her a piece of paper.

"Code for the lock's on that-- burn it when you're done," He winked, "Now, I've got a <dear friend> to go butter up with some breakfast, seeing as I didn't even end up doing what I came to the police station to do in the first place."

"Oh-- I'm sorry, I--"

"Don't worry," He laughed, "She's used to that kind of behavior from me by now. I'll make it up to her. You just concentrate on getting back to normal, alright?"

"I-- I will... Thank you, Varric."

"Don't mention it," He smiled, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

And, just like that, Sur'vhena was alone once again. She sat down on the couch, scooting down until she was nearly enveloped by the cushions, pulling a red blanket she'd found draped over the couch's back around her shoulders. Snuggling down, she pressed her eyes shut, and begged herself _for once_ to have dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, this chapter actually references another fanfic I wrote, called "Drive Me Wild" -- it details Corypheus' background with Hawke and Varric (It is also a HawkexVarric fic, so I get that it's not for everybody) -- that in and of itself would technically be an alternate universe of this alternate universe, but it felt like a great way to world build-- I'll put up a link here in case you end up wanting to check it out!
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6492349/chapters/14860891


	8. Confronted

Sur'vhena awoke several hours later on Varric's couch, and, after slipping out of his office and locking up after herself, she made her way quickly and quietly back to her dorm-- She was almost overjoyed to find the room empty once again. She was about to step into the shower, when she paused to check her phone-- it chirped at her as she picked it up, notifying her that she'd received a campus-wide email alert about the attack from that morning.

The details in the email were, thankfully, nondescript, though they stated that the school would be much stricter with it's monitoring of the campus in the early hours of morning and later hours of the evening. It also cautioned against recreational usage of illegal drugs, even those similar to the legal drug, Lyrium, and the importance of watching for signs of abuse and overdose, as well as making sure you weren't out alone in those early hours.  _They were nothing if not careful to cover all their bases._

She sighed, backing out of the email, and nearly putting down her phone, when another message caught her eye.

[Sender: Solas]   
[Subject: Please]  
[Sent: 5:15 AM]

 _What does he want now?_ She groaned internally, sitting up and stretching. She was still fairly upset about the way he'd talked to her when they'd last spoke.  Nonetheless, her curiosity was piqued, and she opened the email, reading on as she threw her towel over one shoulder.

[Sur'vhena,

I am so incredibly sorry for the way I spoke to you before. I realize now that in expressing my less than complimentary views of the Dalish, I treated not only you, but an entire subset of the elvhen population with disrespect. You had every right to end our interaction the way you did, but I ask that you please, allow me to redeem myself. I have been thinking on what you said, and, you do raise a valid point.

In my being... Well, as you put it, a Somniari, I have dreamt in many places, about many things, and one fact seems to be true in all such places: multiple narratives on the same subject always exist-- some contrary, and some not.

My experience with the Dalish has in fact been mostly through the Fade, save for you. And you have proven to be unexpected from the very beginning.

Please, allow me to try once more, and I promise I will do everything in my power not to hurt you again in this way,

Solas]

 _You have proven to be unexpected from the very beginning_.

She sighed, rolling that sentence over in her mind as she stripped her running clothes away gently, turning on the hot water and letting the bathroom fill with steam. Locking both doors, she stepped into the shower and winced when the hot water ran over her swollen lip.   
  
_Why did he have to be good with words? It's like he just knew what words to say to make her--_

She sighed, raking her fingers through her sopping locks. Part of her still liked him, even after he'd spoken about her people so coldly. It was a complicated feeling, and the more she thought about it, the more irritated she became. She finished washing herself as quickly as she could, stewing in her own thoughts all the while. She took solace in the fact that, upon exiting the shower, the mirror had significantly fogged in the meantime-- it meant she didn't have to see the damage just yet. 

Toweling off, she threw her hair back into a little braid and dressed quickly.

She needed to get away and distract herself. And, finally feeling slightly more refreshed, she knew just how to do that.

* * *

 

Every student majoring in art was given a studio space in which to store their supplies-- be it works in progress, sketches, or anything else.

Sur'vhena had been given one of the smaller spaces, a somewhat walled off cubicle just wide enough for a hammock to stretch from one corner to the other. Peeling her backpack off her shoulder, she smiled as she opened it-- her Dalish heritage had taught her to make even the smallest places work, after all, and she intended this space to be like a second home. Almost defiantly, she began to decorate her space-- an actual hammock, sewn by her mother and other craftsmen, hung up near the ceiling so she could still work below, and a small totem of Fen'Harel she faced out from her space-- to ward away evil spirits, as the saying went.

She said a silent prayer as she lined the walls with paper, strong tape at the edges encouraging it to lay flat on all sides. Digging into her bag one last time, she retrieved her travelling toolbox, a small-ish ornately carved chest that held her art supplies, which she set aside.

All that was left now was a thing she'd packed haphazardly-- Solas' jacket, balled up and wadded into the bottom of her pack.

She thought maybe after a few hours of hard work, she'd feel a little better about approaching him, but now that she was here she wasn't so sure.

The light sound of shoes squeaking behind her caused Sur'vhena to whirl around, her eyes meeting with a very bashful and slightly surprised Solas. The small smile died on his lips, however, shock painting him clear as day when realization dawned on him.

"My word," he breathed, closing the distance between them, "When I'd heard about the attack in the staff meeting, I didn't dare think it was you--"

Sur'vhena felt strangely transfixed as the world seemed to slow around them. Solas' slender hands cupped her cheeks gently, their cool touch lighting up her senses. His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly, as the words left his lips.

 _"Ir abelas, Vhena._ I'm so very sorry... _"_

Her heart gave a loud thump.

  
One thumb grew daring enough to slide down the soft slope of her lower lip, as his eyelids drooped ever so slightly, and Sur'vhena nearly gave in, when--

His arms fell to her sides, enveloping her in an embrace that felt less and less like tenderness-- and suddenly a lot more like pity. She furrowed her brow, squirming away, "Excuse me-- What are you _doing_?"  
  
"I--"

He drew back, almost as if he'd touched something hot, shame coloring his face, "I apologize-- It seems once again I've overstepped my bounds..."

"I should say so! I don't even know if I've decided to _forgive_ you yet!"

the words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. They were sharp, and she could tell she'd struck a nerve, but she stuck by her statement nonetheless.

"No, I understand," He nodded, visibly uncomfortable at the thought, "I offended you, then inadvertently caused you even further pain. You have every right, should you decide not to."

"Damn right, I do!" Sur'vhena hid behind crossed arms and a bold look, though even she didn't necessarily believe what was said-- while he _had_ been an absolute ass, it wasn't entirely unprovoked...

she  _did_ ask him to do something pretty crazy, after knowing him for such a short while, and it  _could_ have been taken the wrong way. And, after all, he wasn't the one who attacked her, nor did he _force_ her to go out alone in the dark. _What had she been thinking?_  

She was brought back to reality as he began to turn away, "Solas, wait..."

He stopped, facing her in an almost cautious fashion.

She dug in her backpack, retrieving his coat and balling it in her fists, searching for the right thing to say.

"Here."

He recognized the coat immediately, but made no effort to move toward her, simply frozen in place as she closed the distance between them once again.

"You know I don't blame you for _this_ ," she motioned with her jacket-filled hand to the fat lip she sported as she stepped toward him, "right?"

Solas shook his head, his throat suddenly dry. Suddenly, this wisp of a woman stood in front of him, eyes bright and fiery, with hand outstretched. He met her's, taking his jacket. The studio was silent; they were utterly alone-- a thing of rarity, in a place like this.

"I know you do not blame me," He said, quietly, after several moments, "But, I cannot help but blame myself."

" _Don't,_ " She whispered, the word punctuated by her pushing the jacket into his hands and flush to his chest. A smirk flashed on her lips as two things happened, very suddenly.

First, she propped herself up on her tiptoes, her hands still flush to his chest. Second, she gently, and very quickly, placed her lips against his in a chaste, but meaningful, kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter again! 
> 
> thanks for being patient, you guys-- the end of january and beginning of february decided to hit me with a really bad flu bug, and i've been down and out for a while. its been rough to get anything done, writing or otherwise.


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